More To It
by Heart of a Music Box
Summary: Kira has stopped killing. Completely. And Light Yagami has disappeared, but that doesn't mean L's seen the last of him.


The moniter glowed electric teal onto L's face, making his pale, gaunt, young face look almost skeletal. The light from the screen only lit up a circle around the desk and chair, leaving the rest of the room hazy and dim. Two bleak ebony eyes focused intently on the screen, though no reflection could be seen in them, as was the case with normal eyes. The moniter showed the entrance to the very building he resided in the top floor of. The guard was sound asleep, so the world's greatest felt obligated to observe it, for both his own safety and for a way to pass the time.

A small sigh escaped the young man's slightly parted lips, though his gaze didn't shift, nor did his face twitch. He was still embedded in a deep denial. Perhaps not so much a denial as a mental debate. One side of his mind argued with the other fiercly. One side refused to believe he'd let the case run cold, while the other insisted that, even though no one else knew what he'd discovered, he'd still solved it.

Exactly nine months ago a reign of terror caused by a killer known only as Kira abruptly stopped. Criminals stopped dying, detectives stopped searching, Kira stopped plotting. End of story. No one knew who the original Kira had been, although the second and third Kiras had been caught. The second Kira was a young woman named Misa Amane, and she'd willingly given herself up. She'd been sentenced to life in prison, but had died a week later. She'd killed herself by hanging herself from the prison cafeteria ceiling with a belt. Reportedly her last words were mumbles about a young man.

The third Kira had been a fanatic called Teru Mikami. He'd refused to go down quiet, screaming for his God and shooting at every law enforcment officer that came near. In a final fit of rage and insanity, Mikami shot himself.

But even though these two were dead and gone, the original Kira was undoubtedly still out there, alive and well, and though no one ever said anything, a fear of his return always lingered in their minds.

This time when L sighed, his eyelids lowered. He, the greatest detective on earth, was the only living human who knew the identity of Kira. And he'd let him go. He'd let the cold-hearted killer just waltz out the door of the investigation headquarters, a promise of silence staining his lips forever.

And this is where the debate came in. One side of his brain said that he had solved the case, for the original Kira had not confessed. L had followed the clues and had caught him in the act. He'd unmasked the killer, he'd solved the case.

The other half, however, said no case was solved until the bad guy was punished, and Kira had just been let go. No daring escape, no jail guards murdered, nothing. Just a back door wide open and a getaway car around back.

L knew he probably shouldn't hate himself as much as he did. Kira wasn't killing anymore. No more humans were dying. That had been part of their agreement. L would never tell a soul Kira's true identity, or give away his position, and Kira would never kill another criminal.

But Kira had made another promise, one L both relished and feared. He promised L that no matter where the detective went, no matter how much security he set up, no matter how well he hid, he'd always find him. He'd find him every Saturday night, and would visit until late Sunday morning.

True to his word, Kira had been coming every Saturday night. He'd found L on every continent, and nearly every country, Afghanistan in the Middle East through Zaire in the African Republic of Congo, he'd always found him.

Now L had given up trying to run. He was settled back in Tokyo, where the Kira case had begun.

A movement on the screen caught L's attention, and he tensed, despite the fact that he was sure he knew what it was. A figure dressed in all dark colors crept past the snoozing guard to the fire escape, and nimbly began to climb. His footsteps made no sound except for a faint clinking.

L knew more than enough now. He reached forward with his thin, spidery fingers to turn it off. He paused for a moment, and decided not to.

The clinking footsteps grew louder and louder as the figure came closer to his window. L felt a slight pressure between his legs, and a small bit of heat rushed to his face.

Finally the steps stopped, and he heard the scree from his open window get popped out. He heard the shady figure slid through the opening and his feet touched the floor. At a rather quick pace, he walked toward the hunched detective.

A cool hand reached under L's left arm and wrapped around his torso, placing the palm over his heart. The fingers dug in, gripping him not in a way that didn't hurt, but proved mobility impossible.

A second arm squirmed under L's right one, and the hand attached to it came to a stop just below his stomach. This hand wiggled its fingertips a bit, not quite tickling him, but that would've been the best definition.

A chin came to rest on his shoulder, and he instinctively tilted his head to the left, away from it. A clear, honey-spiked voice chuckled and leaned closer to his ear. Soft lips brushed his ear as they whispered almost inaudibly;

"Watching for me, hm? So does this mean you're done running?"

A glare half-formed on the detective's face, and the alluring voice of Light Yagami chuckled again. The hand under his stomach moved farther down, sliding down his loose baggy jeans. L clenched his teeth and tilted his head back slightly. Those two satiny lips touched his throat, and he gasped mutely.

Light spun L's swivel chair around, and the detective's coal colored eyes met two golden-hazel ones. Light grabbed him by the shirt collar and yanked him ungracefully from his seat into a standing position. He clamped his mouth over L's, mentally smirking when the older man returned the kiss immediatly. He slid is arm around L's slim waist, pulling their bodies closer. He let go of L's collar, and instead took one of his pale hands in his own. He pushed L's hand to his body, positioning it directly over his heart. He then covered that white hand with his own.

L moaned despite himself when he felt Light's tounge make attempts to push past his lips. Mentally cursing his weak-kneed state, he opened his mouth, allowing the younger man free access.

Light smiled triumphantly at the easy entrance he received, and began to focus on L's reluctant tounge. He sucked on it, while it began to caress his own. The taste of the detective's mouth was extremely sweet, due to his full diet of cakes, cookies, ice cream, candy, et cetera. To this day Light wonders why L never gained any weight from it, no metabolism could work that quickly.

L was lost in the kiss; he hadn't realized he and Light were moving until their lips parted, and he was shoved onto his bed, with the wanted criminal right on top of him. His silky lips found L's snowy throat again, only with a much rougher approach then previously. He let his teeth scrape on the detective's smooth skin, biting once or twice rather harshly. Bright red marks were left everywhere his teeth dug in, especially where the canine's bit down.

He rearranged his position, and soon he was straddling L's body, with his legs on either side of the world's greatest. He thrust against L's growing heat, grinning when the detective moaned sharply.

"I'll have you screaming in twenty minutes."

He gripped the hem of L's white shirt, and quickly tugged it over his unruly head of raven hair. He unzipped the older man's baggy jeans and yanked them down to his bony ankles, along with his boxer shorts.

Light licked his lips; the essence of human perfection was laying naked underneath him, panting and sweating and aroused. L's skin was as white as the bleached sheets he laid on, making his pitch black hair and ebony rings under his eyes stand out easily. His skinny body was far from muscled, in fact, L had one of the most toned bodies Light had ever seen. He had a defined chest that looked rock hard, and a tough-looking four pack. He had no excess body fat in the slightest anywhere, not even his legs. The only part of him that was even remotely squeezable was his rear, and of course Light took advantage of that.

He proceeded to strip himself of his black blazer jacket and black button-up polo. He threw them on the floor, and bent down to assault one of L's pale nipples. He grabbed it between his teeth, circling it with the tip of his tounge. L, who had been recovering from the previous erotic assault, threw his head back again, moving a hand to Light's hazel entwined his fingers into the smooth, soft tresses.

Light had undone his pants and pulled his underwear down, freeing his own straining erection. He wanted nothing more at this moment to engulf himself inside of his former enemy, the man he now loved with everything he had. He couldn't be sure if L loved him the same way, but he was in control here, and it didn't bother him.

He slid his fingers, slippery with precum, inside of L's rectum, moving them in and out a quick pace. He knew it must've hurt the older man underneath him, but he paid no mind to it. He knew L was a masochist; he'd learned it from the months he'd spent sneaking to him at night.

With his other hand he grabbed the base of the detective's straining erection and started to pump it up and down, letting more and more of the white liquid drip onto his hand. He moved up to the head and rubbed his thumb and forefinger in circles around it. He roughly pushed the tip of his thumb into the slit, laughing breathlessly at the gasp L emitted.

L cursed himself.

_Pathetic, _he thought helplessly and angrily, _The greatest detective on Earth, reduced to this. Moaning and gasping underneath the world's most notorious killer. Pathetic._

Yet he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't work up the nerve to shove Light away, to break their deal and expose him.

He couldn't work up the nerve to save himself, heart and body.

He knew that, eventually, this relationship would destroy him. It would either drive his over-developed intellect into the dark abyss of insanity, or his body would be worn away by the disease known as overstress. He knew Light probably didn't care, and so he couldn't bring himself to care either.

L's depressing reverie was interuppted by Light's brutal, sudden entrance inside him. He didn't give the older man time to adjust, and L didn't blame him. He knew the detective was used to this by now.

Light felt as if he was in heaven. The inside of L was hot and tight, and it seemed to be sucking him in farther. He moved quickly, thrusting in and out. He wanted to fuck the man into the mattress, hard enough to leave an indentation.

"L-Light!"

_About time, _Light smirked.

"Light...harder, harder! Please, harder!"

L despised himself. Begging. BEGGING. L Lawliet does NOT beg.

But yet he did. He was begging for it. Pleading to be fucked senseless by his former arch enemy. He was as bad as an addict. Light was his nicotine, his undeniable addiction, and for this drug there was no rehab.

"Harder! Faster! Deeper! Aaah...!"

With one final, particularly hard thrust, the two men came in unison. White, sticky substance splattered Light's naked torso, while the same brand of substance leaked out of L's abused rectum as Light pulled his softening member from it.

They both breathed for a few minutes, and then Light collapsed on top of the detective. He panted a few more times, and chuckled when L turned his back to him, curling his naked body tightly. Light snaked his arms around the older man's waist, and pressing his lips to his ear.

"You never answered my question before; does this mean you're done running?"

Too exhausted to speak, L nodded solemnly. He cursed himself again, for he had admitted defeat.

Light smiled, for the first time that night, a genuine smile. He tightened his embrace.

"I love you, you know."

L's eyes had been drifting closed, and so they snapped open. Had he heard right?

"Don't act so shocked. I can't believe you didn't know."

"How...was I supposed...?"

Light tightened his hold on L's skinny body again, frowning when he felt the world's greatest's ribs stick out against his arms.

"Perhaps all the night visits were too subtle."

"I....thought...you...."

"You thought I was using you as a whore?"

L nodded.

"If I wanted a whore, I'd be with Misa. I love you. For real, and I won't be leaving again."

L's exhausted brain and body were unable to process this new information. Light became alarmed when L's head flopped down, but smiled when he realized the fatigue had just gotten to him. Feeling his own lids become heavy, he planted a soft kiss on the skin just in front of L's ear and whispered;

"That's right...I'm not leaving again.


End file.
